


Everyone looks younger when they're sleeping in the back of a car

by Legs (InsanityRule)



Series: A Modicum of Humanity Makes Everything Harder [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: But the first chronologically, I decided this is the 4th missing scene from Plant Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityRule/pseuds/Legs
Summary: Batman has been knocked unconscious, in the cold, and the only ones that know are Oswald and Ed, who take it upon themselves to return him to Wayne Manor in one piece.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking at incomplete fics, deemed this complete, and decided to post it before I forgot.

Ed watches Oswald, who’s staring down at the crumpled form of the Batman, and notes the irritated quirk of his right brow.

“I  _ told  _ you the knockout gas would be excessive.”

“You  _ hypothesized  _ it would be excessive, you weren’t certain.” Oswald looks up and directs his anger at Ed. “Fine, you  _ correctly  _ hypothesized it would be excessive, happy?”

“No I’m not happy, Ed, because we have a huge problem on our hands.” He gestures with his umbrella, waving it in a vague circle around the Batman.

“I fail to see how this is a problem. In fact, I would consider this to be rather fortuitous.”

“Do you know who this is?”

“I have a very strong unconfirmed theory about who this is,” he says as he leans down and lifts the cowl, revealing the slightly battle roughed face of Bruce Wayne, 20, Gotham’s resident billionaire orphan. “Bruce Wayne.”

“Bruce Wayne!” Oswald shouts. “Do you know what we have to do about this?”

“What can you possess but never steal-”

“We can’t do  _ nothing  _ Ed! This is my, no,  _ our  _ city. As mayor, do you know how this would look if we don’t do anything?”

“You can’t think this is that serious. He’s the one running around dressed like a bat.”

“He’s been handling the Joker, Fish, Grundy-”

“Stopping our lucrative arms deal from going through. Derailing our business. Incapacitating our men.”

“There will be more deals. That’s business.” Oswald carefully bends down. “We can reschedule the deal.”

“Humor me, just for a moment, and imagine how the Batman going down will boost our reputation. Forget about being Mayor for a moment, and just  _ think _ . Our men would be feared and respected. Our control absolute. It’s better to just let sleeping bats lie, and things will work themselves out.”

“So you’ve made up your mind?”

Ed nods. “I’ll be in the car when you’ve made up yours.”

-

Ed turns on the car and cranks up the heat to ward off the winter chill. It started snowing partway through Batman’s interruption, and it hasn’t let up. If anything, it’s gotten worse, big fat clumps of snowflakes falling together and collecting on the ground. He turns the heat up another tick and puts his hands against the air vent.

Not that it matters; it’s no concern of his if an idiot kid gets himself killed because he’s in over his head. Maybe next time, if there is a next time, he’ll stay indoors when it’s cold outside.

Oswald, however, is a concern, especially when he doesn’t join Ed in the (now warm) car after a few minutes, and Ed swears as he switches the car off and starts making his way through the falling snow. He finds Oswald huffing and puffing a few feet from where Batman, Bruce, went down, and one of the young man’s arms is slung over his shoulder in a vain attempt to carry him.

“Oswald, the temperature is most definitely falling.”

“I know,” he wheezes, “it’s why I’m bringing him home.”

_ Of course he is _ , he thinks. “You couldn’t have carried him there when he was fourteen. What makes you think you could do it now?”

“Just help me, please.”

“Of course,” now that they’re doing this, apparently, he loops Bruce’s other arm around his shoulders, “ready?”

Now, his level of fitness isn’t exactly  _ better  _ than Oswald’s; if he’s being honest he’s most likely  _ weaker  _ than Oswald, but he can tell Oswald’s leg isn’t terribly thrilled to support another’s weight when it’s already been iffy just supporting Oswald’s, and Bruce isn’t exactly a wispy teenager anymore.

Ed opens the rear driver’s side door once they reach the car and sits, which causes all of Bruce’s dead weight to end up on top of him. He has to scoot backwards while dragging him in, and his legs get stuck because of course they do, and “Os, if you could lift his legs-yes, thank you,” and somehow they get him lying across the back seat. Ed takes a moment to lengthen the middle seat belt and fasten it around Bruce’s waist before exiting the passenger side door and hurrying around the car to Oswald, who’s been clutching his leg with a pained expression on his face ever since he finished helping.

“One moment,” he opens the driver’s door and turns on the car, “the cold can’t be doing you any favors.”

“Just a cramp,” he reaches out to lean on Ed; he offers up an arm and helps Oswald to the passenger’s seat.

“I was under the impression that penguins like the cold,” he smiles when Oswald gives him a look of disbelief, “although they have actual feathers and up to thirty percent body weight in blubber.” Ed offers up his scarf and Oswald snatches it up, wrapping it around his cheeks and neck in a few sloppy loops.

“Thank you. I’m afraid I don’t have any blubber to speak of.”

Ed nods. “Shall we? If we’re quick there may be time to make some hot cider before we have to meet our broker across town.”

“My plan was to bring him to  _ his  _ home, not ours. Probably for the best.”

“Ah, an important distinction, definitely the better of the two, but if we are bringing him to Alfred can’t he just come and get him and not waste our time with this?”

“It’s far too cold. Just drive. Besides, I plan on seeing this through.”

Ed acquiesces and shifts the car into drive. A quick glance back at Bruce confirms his unconscious state. A thought, unbidden, he looks much younger while curled up on the backseat of their car.

“Do you owe him for saving your life at some point?” Oswald says nothing in response. “Or maybe you think he’ll be grateful, possibly look the other way while we conduct business?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Your one good deed for the year? Trying to balance the scales? It’s like a grain of sand trying to balance the Mojave desert.”

“A drop of water in the ocean,” Oswald smiles.

“One disinfectant wipe in a garbage dump.”

Oswald laughs briefly. “No, it’s not that either, but I enjoyed the visuals.”

Ed nods, of course. “A sense of comradery? He’s as batty as we are?” Oswald’s smile fades. “Because he’s an orphan?”

“My motive isn’t a riddle for you to solve,” Oswald snaps angrily.

“Sorry,” he turns towards the highway and lets the tension in the car envelop him a moment, “just curiosity. But the part where my partner is upset, that  _ is  _ a riddle for me to solve.”

Oswald’s lips worry together, he huffs once. “I’m in pain.”

“Understandable. The added weight put excess strain on already damaged muscle.”

“He would have died.” Ed looks over, Oswald looks calm as he elaborates, “from the cold. Our reputation would mean nothing. We don’t control the weather.”

“I can bring tears to your eyes; resurrect the dead, make you smile, and reverse time. I form in an instant but I last a lifetime. What am I?”

“Ed-”

“You remember the boy, back before this little growth spurt and his fun little hobby.”

Oswald nods. “He still  _ looks  _ like a boy.”

“Can’t argue with visual evidence.”

Oswald looks at the back seat. “Just imagine, if things were different, maybe he’d be our ally.”

“It’s certainly possible, but I think killing is discouraged when you’re a vigilante, or whatever he is, excluding accidental of course.”

“Certainly not ideal,” Oswald laughs, “but I meant he could be a villain.”

“I can’t imagine he’d be too keen on the lifestyle change, although the costume is rather interchangeable.”

“But you could imagine us as vigilantes?”

“I would be a detective, most likely not a vigilante. Private, of course. Then I could work around the whole  _ don’t kill people  _ thing. You?”

“I’d own an aquarium.”

“You’ve thought about this.” Ed pats him on the cheek. “Ready to retire so soon?”

“I’d fix it up nice, of course. World renowned exhibits,” he’s not saying no. Interesting. “Multiple penguin exhibits of course. What’s an aquarium without penguins?”

“Plenty of aquariums don’t have penguins. Traditionally they’re for fish.”

Oswald looks disgusted at the thought, “well  _ my  _ aquarium will have penguins.”

“Will? This future you’re envisioning sounds rather domestic.”

“It would certainly be a change of pace. The chance of getting punched in the face does drop considerably. If you’re not too busy with detective work you could write riddles for all the exhibits.”

He smiles, “I’d like that.” He glances back at Bruce, still out cold. “He’ll be passed out for hours. It’s like we’re picking up our wayward teenager from a party.”

“And you called  _ me  _ domestic.”


End file.
